


You’ll be my American boy.

by TheBabydoll



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Dark Past, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, non-canon, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBabydoll/pseuds/TheBabydoll
Summary: Reader is a new assistant at Avengers tower. Attempting to rebuild a life, move forward and forget the past while healing from unspoken wounds, they peak the curiosity of a certain avenger.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

Anthony Edward Stark is a man of many talents. A born genius, following his father's ambition he entered MIT at age 15 to pursue engineering and physics. Admired by most, but he would argue all, he had the power to charm a cobra out of it's den and the swag that would make a nun swoon. He broke out of a cave using pieces of shrapnel and a can do attitude, discovered a new element, brought world peace multiple times, managed to assemble that piece of rubbish Pepper insisted on having from IKEA without instructions but what he couldn't figure out was why you showed up to a job interview in chucks. You sat wide eyed in front of him, your list of references sitting on his desk in a manila folder. He watched as your knees bobbed up and down, a nervous tick no doubt. You were anxious. 

Tony knew the feeling all too well. The sweat on your brow, the constant fidgeting, touching your nose, your shirt. You were fighting a mild bout of panic. An average person looking at you would assume the usual bouts of nerves but the underlying feeling of your nerves shredding when you found out that Tony Stark himself wanted to interview you joy, followed immedietly by the utter sense of impending doom. That's how your brain worked; yes good things happened, but they only stayed positive for so long before you spun them into the immediate worse case scenario and before you knew it your fight or flight kicked in but your body would be down right rooted to the spot you were laying. Hoping, praying, crossing appendages, Ms. Potts would conduct the interview however Tony upon seeing your sketches insisted that he meet with you one on one. But instead of coming off as a calm cool and professional interview this was very much feeling like a cross examination. You never meant to send your art folder when submitting your resume, thinking it'd be a once in a lifetime chance to even be stuck behind a desk of a paper pusher, you didn't think much of when you found out you had submitted your work references as well as some private scribbles you'd been working on. You could see some of your art designs resting on his desk, sprawled out on papers printed off the computer. 

"Ya’ know when I first called you hung up." Tony speaks, taking a seat behind his desk. 

"I assumed it was a prank, or a scam call . . " 

"You hung up on me three times." Tony quipped, his fingers scrolling through your pages, loudly turning them as he looked at you directly in the eye. "Is that why Ms.Potts face timed me?" you asked wide eyed and trying to hide a smile. "Yeah, Pepper has more patience than I do. . you have an excellent line here." Tony's commentary bleeding into his statement as he looked over your illustrations. "That's not- I didn't mean to email you that, I'm sorry." you spoke meekly, leaning over to get a better look at what picture he was admiring. "No, no, don't apologize this is what got you here." Tony informs you, still looking at your pictures. 

" Not to be rude Mr.Stark, I'm on cloud nine that you called me. . " you were trying to choose your words wisely. "But I uhm. . I applied to be an assistant? You know? A paper pusher?" you watched as your words seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

"Don't be daft kid, you clearly are too talented for that." Tony snapped, causing you to sort of fold in on yourself. Looking over your file seeing you were a student, and a temp at other work places; a barista, a cashier, retail etc. Tony smiled. A real salt of the earth kind of girl, raw talent and determined, he liked that. "Can I just ask. . . what do you like about my doodles?" Doodles. . .you called them. He was insulted for you. " Well your 'doodles' tell me you are disciplined, creative, and it looks like you know how to handle both paper as well as digital." "Everyone is creative. . " you mumbled. "NO, everyone is creating what they think other people want to see. . that is not creativity that is consumerism, now ya' going to keep interrupting me or can I offer you a job?" Tony asks closing your file. He leaned over his side digging through his mini fridge and pulling out a small water bottle to hand to you. 

When you went to reach for it, Tony could see your hands physically shaking. "Last question. . what would I be doing? I mean. . I-" "You could be a p a p e r p u s h e r." Tony's tone was heavy with a satirical tone, and you tried not to roll your eyes at him. "But every now and again I may come by your desk, ask you how something looks, how you think it could be better, ya' know? Hone in on that artist eye of yours." he holds his hands up, thumbs out to imitate a picture with his palms. You couldn't help but smile, curling further into your seat. You didn't like the attention being directly on you. "We'll start you off part time, see how you feel about it. . maybe leave those other two jobs you got hanging in your back pocket, wouldn't want it to interfere with school work now would we? " Tony asks handing you, your folder and shaking your hand as you stood up. "Th'Thank you Mr.Stark, I'll get right on it!" "Kid! Please? Tony. Call me Tony. Head down the hallway so Pepper can help you with the HR papers and give you an ID." he informs you before sending you on your way and out of his office. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

As you began walking down the hallway you began to fumble with the papers in the folder, attempting to put them back into order after Tony had ran through them numerous times leaving edges of white peaking out of the yellow folder. Not paying much attention to where you were actually going you didn't hear the elevator door ding, you also didn't hear the approaching footsteps, or realize there was another body in front of you until you collided into it; hard. Sight blinded by the array of paper flying everywhere, you were knocked to the tile floor. For a brief moment you think you ran directly into a glass wall, and nervously giggle thinking of how security will most likely have a field day laughing at you, followed by how annoyed you were that you'd have to sit on your hands and knees picking up the mess you made. "You stupid bitch..." you mumbled to yourself, looking up at the ceiling and huffing. "I am so sorry Miss, are you alright?!" you felt a large hand grab on your forearm and lift you off the ground effortlessly, and putting a face to the voice. Locks of blond hair resting on a face of chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes; the dashing Steve Rogers in the flesh. Bedazzled by the man in front of you, you’d never been star struck before and for some reason in this moment words seem hard to come by. "I'm. . I'm. . " internally you were on a tirade of why your operating system suddenly decided to stop functioning properly right then and there and you looked absolutely dumbfounded in front of this beautiful stranger. Steve watched you attempt to compose yourself before the dense scent of heavy metal struck his nose; "You're bleeding! " Steve barely shouted as your nose produced two red pin drops before becoming a geyser of blood gushing out of your nostrils and onto the tile floor. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." you turn around hunching over to hide your face and hold your nose. "No, No, don't do that! Hold your head back!" Steve instructed holding your shoulders and turning you around to face him as he dug through his back pocket to find a handkerchief. Of course he'd have one. "Head back, head back. ." he repeated, holding your neck with one palm and the handkerchief pressed hard against your nose in an attempt to prevent from further splatter.

"I'm so sorry, did I get blood on you?" you ask as he begins leading you down the hallway. "Don't worry about it." he comments briefly looking down behind you and seeing the mess of papers and blood on the tile floor right outside the elevators. "Have to send sanitation. . " making a mental note of it. "Hold this here." he instructs you as he propped a door in front of you. "Oh hey StevaOH MY GOD!" Pepper yelled from her desk, as she removed herself from her seat, all you could do was meekly watch her from your peripherals. The amount of blood trickling down your face and neck, you looked like you had the tip of your face chipped off. "Pepper? Bathroom?" Steve asks placing his hand over yours holding the handkerchief and pinching the bridge of your nose. "Yes, yes of course!" she quickly dashes across the room to help open the bathroom door. Unsure of what to say in this situation "Hello Ms.Pott's my name is Y/N and I'm a new hire? Tony sent me to talk to you. . . I'd. .I'd shake your hand but it's covered in blood right now." Your voice nasally and high pitched from the pressure applied to your nose. Both Pepper and Steve smile at this admission, "Yes, well nice to meet you too Y/N, lets get you cleaned up." she laughs at the end of her sentence opening the bathroom door allowing you and Steve to walk through. 

This bathroom was sadly but not surprisingly than your apartment. You didn't have time to ogle the marble flooring or high tech mirrors or top quality faucet that heated the water in a matter of seconds. "Alright, lets get you seated here." Steve instructs as you sit on the closed toilet seat, he turns to face the sink and turn on the faucet.

Running a towel under cold water, Steve pressed the chilled material on the bridge of your nose. "A trick I learned when I used to get nose bleeds. . ." You wanted to ask him if he actually got nose bleeds or he was merely being polite; because what atrocities had to happen in order to make the super soldier bleed, but shyness intervened and the only thing that came out of your mouth was a quiet; "Oh." "I'm afraid we haven't been formally introduced." he continues, his eyes freely roaming over your face. Your eyelashes were long and curled covered by mascara that had began bleeding onto your lower lids; probably from the impact. You had a slight wrinkle in the middle of your forehead when your brows were furrowed and you wore contact lenses. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers." the introduction makes you smile, making your eyes slightly hide behind your cheeks, an expression Steve shares with you. "I'm Y/N, Y/N, L/N, and I am . . well I was new. . not sure they'll hire me now."

Steve lips split into a smile “ Nah’ Pepper’s seen worse. “ he assures you. Standing in place he kept the cold towel on your nose. He looked over your hands as they held the now ruined handkerchief. Your hands were small and you had freckles on your knuckles. 

“ like what? “  
“ like the time Tony almost cut off the tip of his finger because he was trying to cut a piece of chocolate off of a solid Easter Bunny mold he got as a gift from a Belgian candy company. “

You giggled. To Steve the sound reminded him of sleigh bells, sweet, nostalgic for a memory that didn’t exist.

There was a looming silence building as Steve continued to take in your features before noticing he was staring. You would've said something, would've. Unsure you began to fidget again underneath his gaze, wincing lightly at the pressure applied to your nose. “Ya’ gotta sit still sweetheart.” A small knock on the door before Pepper went ahead and permitted herself to open the door. "Ok. . ." she says in a sigh, holding a bundle of tissues and what looks to be an Iron Man T-shirt.

"I think it's best to get you down to Dr. Cho's just to make sure everything's alright. Can't have you walking out of here with only one nostril working." she jokes and you smile. "I. . I had my papers but uh-. . " "We had a little accident in the hallway." Steve informs her, shrugging his shoulders.

Pepper smirks. "Clearly."

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Steve watched you exit Dr Cho’s office and disappear into the elevator with two tufts of cotton stuffed in your nose. Papers smashed half hazard in your burgundy satchel, a plastic bag holding the soiled shirt in hand. When he saw the level reach the lobby he returned to Tony’s office as he’d summoned him earlier. 

Tony sat in his desk munching loudly on a box of chocolate covered espresso beans, his alligator shoes resting on top of his glass desk as he twiddled away on the remote, burning through the tv channels. 

“What’s happen Cap’n?” Tony asks, not slowing down for a second. 

Steve pulled up a chair across fro him, finally taking an actual moment to look at his once white thermal shirt now tarnished with a dark red splotch dead center of his chest. 

“ nipple piercings Cap?” Tony teased. “ wouldn’t take you for the type. “ 

Steve smirked, bunching the end of his shirt and lifting it slightly to examine the extent of damage. The shirt was absolutely ruined. 

“ no, the new desk jockey, ran into me... literally. “ Steve informed him, the memory of you ricocheting off his chest and colliding with the floor almost made him laugh. Almost. 

Tony removes his legs from his desk, picking up a few stray sheets of paper out of the copy machine before handing them to Steve. “ yeah well I hope ya’ didn’t scare her too bad, cause that desk jockey is going to design a new logo for us. “

Steve thrums through the pages quietly looking at the print outs of your work. Quietly admiring your illustrations. Some cartoonish, fantastic and some real life sketches as well as tropes of trees and landmarks, backgrounds. Obviously quite talented however you had a knack for scribbling off most of the sketches that showed more promise. Steve could relate. His own note book filled with un finished pieces that he had no means to actually complete, just a hobby he could easily pick up and put down. 

Tony clicked away on the TV before stopping on a channel that had a news segment going around about the current outbreak of GR-27; Devil's breath. An airborne toxin currently effecting the immediate population, dangerous to those who come into contact, specifically with compromised immune systems, and those with certain lineage of DNA, causing current restrictions to be put on social gatherings. Tony sat quietly while Steve listened to the output of the News Anchor, looking at his phone; the current social airways flooded with outcries of anger, misunderstandings, as well as people downplaying the seriousness of outbreak. Some people calling it a hoax, others asking people to stay put, and a majority unsure of what to do with the information given. 

"We're going to set up testing areas as well as shelters for those who don't have a home to stay in. Ok, now food, what about food? I'm thinking catering. . .but delivery could be tricky. . " Tony informs Steve or rather continues to dump information on the Captain. This was more or less how it went, Tony paid for everything, Steve merely had to agree. "Shouldn't be more than a few weeks of at home work, we can treat it like a simple vacation, I'd stay close to home if I were you though'." 

Steve agreed, signing off on the idea of a stay home order being the safest thing to do during these trying times, compared to his days in battle this would seemingly be a cake walk. Returning to his own office, he sat at his computer, going over current news, receiving mass emails about growing concern of the growing pandemic. 

Endlessly clicking away, Steve caught himself searching up your file which Pepper had uploaded impeccably on time as always. Your ID photo for your swipe card made him outright chuckle, the smile on your face, donning two cotton plugs up your nose and wide eyes. You were clearly excited. 

He read your list of references, your resume. You were a student, multiple majors with a sizable gap in your studies as well as numerous temp jobs. 

“ busy lil’ one...” he mumbled to himself as he continued to lurk. A barista on some days, dog walker on others, server on holidays, receptionist on others. His bafflement was interrupted when Nat knocked on his office door before letting herself in. “ Steve, let’s go down the cafe for lunch.” 

Steve closed the window on his computer, deciding he’d pick back up on this later.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

To say the first days of a limited quarantine were one thread away from sheer anarchy was a understatement. Steering clear of all grocery stores in the middle of the day was ideal, but also a pain in the ass. Grocery shopping in the early mornings to avoid crowds was tremendously peaceful, however being so sleep deprived that you forget you left a bag of groceries on the top of your car only to realize it when you get brake checked at the light made you want to rage quit reality.

Within the first week of the shut down businesses went from limited proximity being open to the public, to outside dining, to take out only. You didn't have to quit your other jobs since the only one being kept alive by a slow but dying pulse was food delivery and as for matters of being Tony Stark’s paper pushers, the two of you had exchanged some colorful and misspelled emails... mostly sent from his cellphone.

Now currently sitting at a local favorite diner waiting for a takeout order to be readied, you dabbled on your tablet, sketching the neon sign that flickered in the darkness of the late night. The soft howl of the wind caused your car doors to creak and the vehicle to slowly rock. You watched as one of the restaurant workers ran out to each individual vehicle, watching as the weather caused the plastic bags to falter in their hands. “Boy I do not envy you...” you mumbled. 

The green numbers glowed on your dashboard ; 2:30 am. “ who the fuck eats this late anyways?” Your thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on the window. The poor worker gloved up and masked, a beanie to protect from the cold so the only thing visible is his eyes. 

“ Three cheeseburgers, a fry and a strawberry milkshake.” He repeats the order back to you.  
“Yeah, sounds about right.”

You agree, slipping the poor boy a ten as he hands you the bag. Leaving the diner’s parking lot, another harsh whirl of wind strikes your vehicle making you nearly spin out. “Holy shit. . . “

As the minutes ticked it seemed the once dark sky became eclipsed in dark billowy clouds, your small vehicle carrying you to your destination; a large uptown apartment complex, classic brick exterior with a cement stair case donned by black metal railing. 

Pressing the takeout to your chest as you made your way up the railing you quickly buzzed in. The speaker outside emitting a piercing ringing noise, before a statically voice broke through. The voice sporadic, hearing only tic bits of the end of sentences “He-hello? I have your delivery from Malone’s diner? The 24 hour eatery?” 

Absolute silence. 

The wind chaffed your face and made you bite your chapped lips, it was only a few seconds but for all you knew it could’ve been minutes, the building anticipation that finally collapsed into a sigh of relief when you heard the door buzzer allowing you to open the door. You quickly walked to the elevator only to find a lovely paper note taped directly on the metal doors. 

‘Out of Order.’

“Son of a bitch.”

You quietly grumbled to yourself as you started up the staircase, only making it to the second floor to quickly glance back at your phone; apartment 3716. 

“Couldn’t just meet me downstairs . . . Noooo that’s too much for someone who requires 5000 calories in the middle of the night...no ho ho, I gotta meet you on the third floor of your apartment building that also happens to have a busted elevator, maybe if management worked on then interior and less on exterior, I wouldn’t be getting my steps in today. Oh damn it I forgot my Fitbit” you finally reached the third story door, opening it with a grunt. 

Your breath worked up to a full blown pant, beads of sweat beading at your forehead and dampening your hood as you continued trucking down the hallway. You were sure by the time you actually got there, the milkshake in your hand would be no more than a puddle of syrupy milk . ‘3713... 3714, 3715...there we are.’

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

A soft knock on the door pulled Steve from his concentration staring blankly at a mass email sent by Tony about the newest regulations regarding the outbreak, how most likely working from home would be the norm unless civic duty called and the hero’s were called to arms. 

Another knock. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming’ ” Steve raised his voice slightly, digging a few bills out of his wallet before opening the door. He found you fidgeting with your hood, bringing it to nearly cover your eyes, your mask resting on the bridge of your nose. Well what a pleasant surprise . . . He’d had hoped to run into you again at work however with the stay at home order, the scenario was less and less likely. 

“ S.G. Rogers. . . That’s funny it sounds just like-“  
“Steve Rogers”  
He announced, grinning. 

You jolted, hearing the familiar baritone voice of Captain America. 

“Mr. Rogers!” ‘You gotta be kiddin’ me...’ you thought to yourself, glancing back at your phone. You quickly fix your cap, and tuck any free hairs behind your ears, a last stitch effort to look somewhat presentable. As you looked down at your feet, Steve smiled, watching you attempt to put yourself together under his gaze. 

“How’ve you been?“ he asks leaning against the doorway, his body language super relaxed. A subtle attempt to put you at some level of ease. “ Good, good.” You fumble your words a bit. “ here’s your order, made’ sure everything’s in there.” 

You hand him the wrinkled plastic bag, containing the paper bag with obvious grease stains on it. “Three cheeseburgers, fries, Oh! And I’m sorry, your shake might’ve melted on the way.. wasted half my gas on having the heater on full blast. “ you half joked handing him the large styrofoam cup. 

“Have trouble finding the place?” He asks, his eyes continuing to linger on your face. You were obviously flushed, sweat beading at your hairline. “No, none at all. . The speaker in the front though could use some work.” You laugh at the end of your sentence, unsure if it’s from sarcasm or sheer nervousness. 

A harsh tapping on the window caused Steve to look back into his apartment, seeing an old elm tree being thrashed in the wind causing the plant to repeatedly tap on his window, followed by a thunder clap. “ well I better get going, it’s super late and looks like rain. Lucky for you, you were my last order. Goodnight Mr. Rogers. Enjoy!” You shrug your shoulders getting ready to turn to leave. Steve interjects grabbing your forearm. “Or you could stay . . . Don’t want you finishing the rest of your tank getting home, especially in this weather.” 

You tried to think of ways to say no, a line of logic that would make sense. A reason to simply walk out and trudge it in case your car decided to break down in the middle of the street in the middle of a storm. 

Watching the gears in your head turn, Steve thought he’d better sweeten the deal, “ I have enough food for two..” he lifts up the hand holding both the milkshake and bag of food.

“Well if you insist...”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Sure enough as soon as you entered Steve’s apartment, another thunder clap caused the lights to flicker and sporadic rain fall hitting the window pane. This was fine , everything was fine, this was innocent enough. Just having a late night dinner with an Avenger, the Avenger, this was fine everything was fine. You tried not to read too far into this.

‘ he’s just making sure I don’t total my car..’ you thought to yourself, standing by the isle of his kitchen. You took the surroundings, a well furnished place, small touches of vintage pieces here and there; a record player as well as a bookcase filled with old timely vinyls. An old recliner- he still read the news paper based off of the stack of them laying on his coffee table. 

Steve watched you from the corner of his eye as he searched the contents of his fridge. “Water? A coke?” He asks. “I’ll take a soda, thank you.” You stayed standing as he took the stool across from you, placing a burger in front of you. “ please, get comfortable, sit down, take a load off.”

You were hesitant. Not really able to get comfortable in front of strangers let alone Captain America. The epitome of perfection, you weren’t sure H O W to get comfortable. You still had your coat and cap on. It was obvious to Steve you had a lot of nervous energy. Slowly sitting on the stool across from him Steve lead by example and simply dig in, even taking a few generous gulps of his half melted milk shake. 

You followed suit taking a few bites of your burger, trying to stay as lady like as possible given the circumstances. 

“ so what are you doing out? You know they’re getting ready to have a complete shut down right? A stay at home order? “ although he asked, Steve wasn’t complaining. The more logical responsible side badgered his ear about the dangers of running into an someone infected with Devils breath. 

“ I run deliveries on the side. Besides if I’m stuck at home I might end up with cabin fever...” despite not liking the idea of you being out late going to strange people’s houses Steve smiles, wiping his mouth with a brown napkin before taking a sip of his milkshake You pause briefly before speaking “ what are you doing eating junk food at 3:00 in the morning? I was expecting another college dorm. . “ you confessed as much since most late night deliveries were indeed done by predominantly fellow students who had hunkered down while waiting for the lockdown to lift. Steve chuckled. “ Had to go over a few emails...figured ordering out would be easier and time got away from me.” The two of you finished your late night dinner, the rain never let up and in fact got worse as the night lead on, you shared conversations about work, your opinions on lockdown, art, films, music and before you realize it you’re actually relaxed, elbows on table with your face resting in your palm as you listened to him speak. He really was beautiful, even his imperfections were beautiful, two small moles on his cheeks and neck, the wrinkle in his forehead, one couldn’t help but stare. You’re mundane attempts to stay awake became feeble and you finally settled in on the couch, removing your scarf and coat in hand. Steve breathed a sigh of relief realizing you were finally relaxing. “ may I take your coat?” You smile, only responding with a nod as drowsiness continues to envelope you. When he returns to the living room you are clearly struggling to stay upright, heavy with drowsiness. Steve takes the seat next to you, turning on the tv. You were put at more ease, the sound of the channels flickering before settling on one. Hoping the sound or at least interest would keep you awake through the remaining hours you’d hate to end up snoring away on Captain America’s couch. Watching you from the corner of his eye, slowly, ever so slowly Steve widened the spread of his legs, until finally his knee was pressed against your thigh. Not really noticing until you felt the heat radiating off of him , even through the denim of your jeans. You didn’t jolt, you didn’t fidget, seemed innocent enough. Your heart however was pounding against your chest. What exactly was he doing? Was he getting comfortable? Was he trying to subtly tell you to switch spots and sit on the recliner? Why couldn’t he move to the recliner? It was his house?! Your fingers fidgeted slightly in your lap. Steve could see it through his peripherals, you were thinking. Attempting to make his interests a little more clear, he extended his arm behind you, resting on the backseat of the couch just behind your head. He stopped there, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or encroached upon, he wanted to see your reaction to his approach. Your heart a flutter... you let your hands remain in your lap as you decided to slowly open your sitting position so your thigh was pressed against his.

Captain America had enough heat radiating off him to put a Keurig thermos to shame. You could feel him relaxing next to you and allowed your head to rest on the back of the couch, eventually going slack and surrendering to sleep completely. 

Steve could hear you breathing softly next to him, looking over and watching the rising and lowering of your chest, your hands resting on your lap and your feet splayed out on the floor. He continued to watch the program on the television for a bit, before removing himself from your side, grabbing a pillow and a blanket before returning to the couch.

He expertly unlaced your shoes, before slowly sliding them off your feet and placing your legs on the couch before spreading them blanket on top of you and tucking a pillow behind your head. He froze in place when you stirred gently, getting comfortable curling into a ball.

Steve continued going through emails, listening to your soft breathing as you continued to slumber on the sofa.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Start digging to the root of the reader’s past pain. Steve sees how insidious anxiety is and Tony causes an explosion.

You didn’t mind sleep when you could get it. Normal people took sanctuary behind the darkness of their lids didn’t they? 

Not you. Unless your bit of drowsiness was chased by a sleep aid you didn’t often get a full nights sleep. Day dreamed scenarios you played in your head in order to lull yourself to sleep often chased away by nightmarish memories. The crash, the fire, the flames. The screams. 

The smell of burnt rubber and blood followed by the faces of your siblings drowning in complete darkness.

“No..” your voice speaking out in your sleep. Steve perked up from his bed able to hear you from the other room

“ I’m sorry.” Again your voice breaking your breathing pattern that had now become a very audible pant. Steve tip toed to the living room, finding you sweating and breathing heavy beneath the blanket. “ I didn’t ... No. I didn’t mean it.” You twitched violently in your sleep. Steve felt helpless watching you. Unsure of what was taking place behind closed eyes. All he could do was watch quietly, hoping you wouldn't manage to flail so hard you'd hurt yourself. Your eyes darting back and forth behind closed lids, Steve took the liberty of taking your hands and place them into the blanket he had put over you. He then decided to tuck you in, putting the blanket under the sofa cushions so you couldn't scratch yourself, before retiring to his room. Leaving the door open in case he heard any more whimpering.

You stirred lightly in your sleep before you finally woke up. Remembering where you were you struggled not to scramble to your feet and immediately jump out the window as anxiety let it’s presence be known. It was never far behind you, always looming over you. Making any place that wasn’t your small room feel like the equivalent of sitting on a bed of nails. 

Who took off your shoes? 

As quietly as you could, you quickly put on your sneakers and coat. You folded the blanket, placing the pillow you slept on atop of it and left a message on a piece of paper. Hearing a telling creak from the other side of the apartment you quickly made your exit before Steve could even see you.

Steve was surprised when he came back into the living room and found you gone. A small note left on the pillow on top of the neatly folded blanket. 

"Thank you for everything! I'll be sure to stay safe!" 

He wasn't quiet sure where to place the feeling that bloomed in his chest. Was he angry? Upset? Annoyed? When was the next time he was going to see you? Walking to the doorway he checked the hallway to see if you remained there only to further drive his emotions when he saw you weren't there. "Damn it. ." he hissed, turning on the ball of his foot returning to his room.

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"Tony I really don't think that's a good idea. . we'd be breaking protocol, and I don't want to get anyone in trouble." you spoke through your webcam, the two of you had been going back and forth on artwork he had commissioned for an advertisement for Stark industries charity to help with relief during the outbreak. Communication was difficult and spotty at best, as Tony never expressed directly what he wanted, he merely wanted you to submit what you considered your best pieces. There was just one problem, you didn't know how to distinguish your best pieces. One of your worst habits being you would create a piece, either leave it unfinished, or grow to dislike it completely. 

"You've only submitted five pieces when I clearly asked for ten, you're holding out on me." he stated blankly, his big brown eyes though looking through the computer window felt as if they were burrowing deep within your soul. You wanted to ask him if somewhere on his body he had a displaced area of triple 6's, the way he knew how cleverly you displaced your art so you wouldn't have to show it. The older Avenger upon meeting you, felt from the jump he could recognize the brilliance but troubled youth you were. Full of doubt, anxiety. He never deterred or pointed it out flatly that he could recognize your panic because he was sitting in the same boat as you; all he could do was offer you a life jacket and as these online meetings continued he began seeing you more as an apprentice than a coworker. 

Sounds great in theory. It was however exhausting. The man never seemed to sleep. In the few weeks you were supposed to remain in doors he had called you almost every day, some times multiple times, some times at 3-4 in the morning. 

"Look, I'll send a car, bring whatever you need and worst case scenario we'll pull an all nighter." You ran your hands over your face, and rolled your eyes so hard you could feel your contacts scrape your brain. 

"That sounds like some college level shit." you huffed out with a sigh. "Well it's a good thing you're a college student, be ready in 30 pumpkin' see ya!" before you could object he closed the window. Unable to tell him no, you sprung from your seat, showered, changed, did your best to look presentable given the circumstances. Simple high wasted black jeans, and a button up cotton shirt. Looking at the clock you grabbed your satchel and quickly headed down stairs to meet the black car that had been sent for you.

Up in the offices of the Avengers Tony had called a meeting, if you could even call it that. It was mostly a series of tirades about a myriad of projects that were currently grounded due to lockdown. Wanda and Nat rolled their eyes, Clint slumped in his chair. “It’s too early for this shit, where’s our coffee?” 

The building was nearly a ghost town with only the main staff and a few paper runners, walking around the hallways. Steve watched as the young assistances ran to and fro, back and forth, on occasion Pepper would make an appearance only to quickly return to her office. She clearly had already heard whatever Tony had to say.

Steve sat stone faced staring off into oblivion. After years of working with Tony he learned when to tune him out and chime back in, only paying attention to key sentences as he was a man... easily distracted. It was clear that during this time, Tony was struggling to keep himself distracted at home. 

Seeing you appear, nearly running across the glass doors, a large pink box held to your chest, your burgundy bag swinging behind you. You slipped when you stopped at the door, grabbing the glass handle for support. Steve placed his face in his hand, his pinky finger resting on his lips to hide his smile. 

“ sorry I’m late, I picked up some donuts...” you announced placing the box on top of the table, before grabbing the first available seat which happened to be right in front, across from Steve, and dead center in front of Tony.

Steve grumbled. The empty seat next to him, kicked with the heel of his foot clearly agitated. Tony seeing the box of treats immediately opening them and helping himself, while others followed suit. “Mmm I don’t like people being late but at least you had good reason...” the end of his sentence dying in his throat giving way to a moan as he sunk his teeth into a jelly filled donut. “This is so good, is this Mendells? Should we order coffee?” He asks as he goes for his phone preemptively putting in a mobile order.

“Tony... I have the pieces you wanted.” You attempt to bring the subject back around, pulling out your portfolio. “I was hoping you could look at it privately?” That last sentence only a whisper. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t a room full of Avengers. 

“No need to be shy kid, this is supposed to be a group decision.” Bruce laughed from the corner. “Supposed to” he holds up air quotes as Tony removes your portfolio from your hands. The area begins to crowd as Wanda and Nat walk over to look at the pages Tony begins to splay out on the table.

You wanted to shrivel up and die then and there. Nothing you hated more than having your drawings seen, more so than by people you knew and worked with. You’d rather be flayed alive.

Steve took two long strides next to you as the other Avengers began circling the table, his hands resting on the table top as he leaned over. “Hello.” His tone deep and stern. You slowly turned towards him, looking up to meet his penetrating gaze. “Hi..” you whispered. “Why did you leave?” His voice a hushed whisper, never breaking eye contact. “You’re not one to mince words.” You smirk, “ well if I mince them you bolt.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. 

You were confused. Turning more to face him before standing up and following the rotation of people walking around the table, Steve followed. “ I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.” You continued the conversation as Steve walked behind you. “What would make you think that?” Steve pried. “What do you want Steve?” Your conversation went from a hushed whisper to a quiet yell, causing the group on the opposite side of the table to look in your direction; specifically Nat.

She smiled looking at the way Steve looked at you. His baby blues were fixated on your face in a way she hadn’t seen. 

Steve read your face, surely you couldn’t be so clueless to his advances. With your one hand on the table, the other at your side, Steve moved subtly, still facing the table and not to signal any flags. His hand brushed against yours. He pressed his middle finger into your open palm before going to lace his fingers around yours. 

Your stomach flipped on itself, and Steve could feel your pulse lose cadence in the tips of his fingers. You could feel your tempreture rising as you looked at him as he searched your face for some semblance of confirmation. 

Captain America? Wanting you? Pursuing you? No. Never! Couldn’t be.

You removed yourself from his side slapping his hand away “this isn’t funny Steve.” Steve looked wounded, confused. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped when you walked out of the office so quickly that you managed to forget your bag. You weren’t amused, or charmed by any means. You felt mocked, ashamed. You shuddered hearing the clicks of echoing footsteps.

Turning around half expecting Steve only to be surprised when you saw Tony with another donut in hand. 

“You alright there kiddo’? It’s just critiquing, it’s not like they actually know anything worth a damn about presentation.” He asks approaching you with a concerned look. “I’m sorry Tony-“ “C’mon now, Thor still wears a cape, what is this? The 90’s? Don’t let their opinions bother you.” He placed a hand on your shoulder leading you down the hallway. You dug your heels into the tile of the floor when you thought that you were going back to the glass conference room, not wanting to run into Steve again after your dramatic exit. “Aht, aht. We’re going to my office, I want to show you something.” Tony comforted you as you approached the familiar doors of his corner office. 

Opening the doors he immediately went behind his desk digging through the mini fridge and pulling out two mini water bottles, handing you one as he walked over to another corner of the office that held a book case. His free hand thumbing the spines of the books before stopping at a black hardcover moleskin and pulling it out, handing it to you. “You see kid, all ideas start somewhere.” You looked at him before cracking the spine of the book, seeing worn out and some even sindged pages of the notebook.

“We start with a thought, we put it to paper.” Tony spoke his stream of consciousness out loud. You turned the pages as he narrated. They were sketches and blueprints of an ensemble of gadgets you had never seen before, modifications to his suit, pieces of hardware. 

You could see in the corner of your eyes as he walked around his desk. You could hear the soft rumblings of the contents of a drawer before he had an “ah HA!” And returned to your side. Between Tony’s fingers rested what looked to be a Montblanc Meisterstuck fountain pen. You gasped. The craftsman ship was dazzling, Tony smiled recognizing the astonishment on your face. “You see this pen, this is literally my favorite pen.” He starts explaining. 

“You see..” he takes a sindged page and began scribbling across it, showing you the smooth curves, the way the pen held the tip of the pen. “It writes like a dream, completely, doesn’t bleed into the page, doesn’t make the ink dry too quickly.” He continues outlining his points by drawing, having a loser and loser grip of the utensil. Taking an extended hand he flipped the pages of the notebook until it stopped on a diagram of the very pen he was holding. “And it all started with an idea..” he circled back, smiling at you. A moment of reassurance for you a sliver of safety in all the chaos you felt yourself exhale. 

“The only problem I have with it is, when it decides to malfunction it gives no sort of warning.” You looked at him confused, until he attempted to take the lid off the backing.

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“Y/N?! Y/N?!” 

The sound of voices trying to reach you echoed in your ear. Muffled by a ringing so loud you it caused an ache within your ear canals 

“Sh..she switched places withme..” your speech jumbled. Words bumping into one another as you tried to explain again. “She switched places with. . I made her.” you throat croaked, words died on your lips. 

“Kid?! I’m sorry ok!? Can you hear me?!” Tony’s voice broke through. The harsh ringing in your ears didn’t seem to subside, you could hear other voices begin to bleed in. Loud, shouting, a scream, a gasp. 

“What did you do Tony!? What did YOU DO?!” A familiar voice. Angry, shouting. Steve? 

You could feel hands on your face, brushing hair that clung to your forehead, a thunderous pounding in your ears and a throbbing pain in your head. Blinding light burned your eyes when you opened your lids causing you to recoil, dark blurred figures surrounding you until your vision finally adjusted itself and you rose from the ground with a loud gasp. 

Steve and Tony flanking your sides, on hands and knees. Steve’s hand pressed firmly on your back propping you up. Tony no longer wearing his glasses, his lapel on his jacket burned on the edges and he had a bleeding gash on the side of his face and ear.

You could see the hem of Pepper’s skirt, followed it up to find the blond with crossed arms and a look heavy with disappointment. “Did you break out the pen!? I thought I told you to destroy the pen, what have I said about that pen Tony!?” She lectures her spouse, following him down to the floor to assess the damage. 

One of your ears was bleeding, a gash hidden within your hairline caused blood to cover your forehead, it hurt to breath and your back immediately ached, you lost one of your shoes in the blast and the air was dense with smoke. The leather bound moleskin smoking on the opposite side of the room, plumes of dark fumes curling on top of it. “ what.. what happened?” you ask, continuing to look around. Steve stayed sitting next to you, his arm remaining on your back, now crouching on his knees. “Tony brought out the pen..AGAIN.” Pepper swatted his shoulder. “What the fuck..” you scrunch your face, bringing a hand to your forehead and feeling the tips of your finger meet sticky skin. Blood. 

“It was a bomb?” You ask given the damage you took on, and Tony’s chard clothes and your missing shoe. Steve had enough of seeing you laid out like a rag doll on the floor and slipped a hand underneath your legs, picking you up effortlessly. The quickness of this action caused you to shrivel in his grasp, instinctively grab for the collar of his shirt , this action was punished with a painful ache. 

“ No! NO! ... a little bit yeah. Ever since the incident with Obadiah, I’ve been working on making certain mechanisms more ... discreet.” Tony attempted to explain himself as both Pepper and Steve gave him daggers.

Pepper and Tony begin taking verbal punches at each other, Pepper holding up Tony’s glasses, you can see the frame is now clearly bent, with a cracked lens. “ Just start from scratch instead of tinkering with that thing! It set last years Christmas tree on fire..” “Pep-“ “TWICE! TWICE Tony!” Pepper continues to list the atrocities of the supposed demonic office supply had done. 

Steve walked out, you still in his arms, propping the door with his back as he made his exit. “ I can walk Steve...” you mumble, your legs swaying as he continued to down the hall. “ You have a possible head injury.” He looks over your feet, your sock barely hanging on your foot by the ankle. “And you’re missing a shoe.” 

“Oh..” 

Good God he smelled good. Leather, musk followed by the smokey aroma of burning embers. You’d like to go slack in his arms, resting your head on his delectable pectorals, allow his muscular arms to comfort you, but , but, but. Your mind raced. Your thoughts drove themself. ‘He just feels sorry for you.’ ,‘He’s just being helpful.’ ,‘He just feels bad’ your mind fed you the most realistic scenario until it spun out to the worst case. ‘He’s going to drop you.’, ‘ he’s going to FIRE you.’, ‘he’s sending you home.’ Steve could feel you tensing further in his grasp, your eyes zoning off in the distance, the expression on your face he couldn’t read.

“Hit the button.” Steve instructs as he approaches the elevator door, recalling you from the swirling vortex of your mind “Where are we going?” You ask, doing as your told. 

“Dr. Cho’s sweetheart, gotta get you checked out.” The butterflies in your stomach return. The dinging of the elevator announcing its arrival and the two of you walk through the metal doors.  
Steve could feel the tension in the muscles of your back, the strain you were experiencing to keep yourself upright. Slowly, slowly with his pinky finger, he dragged it across the fabric of your back, exposing a bit of skin, until his ring and pinky finger were resting on the bare small of your back. You tensed further. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself more if you don’t relax.” He lectured. “I’m afraid you’ll drop me.” You lied. “I won’t .” His ring finger begins drawing small circles in your back, further lifting your shirt until his entire hand was placed on your naked skin. You never looked directly at him, you couldn't. The way your brain was wired and given the circumstances you were so sure you, yourself would spontaneously combust due to the sheer nerve of it all and God, why did you have to be so awkward? Moving at a glacial pace, Steve watched as you slowly placed yourself so your head was resting against his chest. You stood there, frozen completely as if locked into place, muscles so taunt, Steve was sure if he placed you on the floor you would remain in the same position. 

"It's ok. . ." he whispered, a hush sweet tone, trying to coax you into allowing yourself to trust him enough to relax in his arms. “You’re safe, it’s alright..” He could feel your body begin to give way to him. His fingers remained under your shirt, tracing small patterns into your back. By the time the elevator reached the lobby floor for the most part you were properly tempered.

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"My, my you've got quiet the concussion Y/N." Dr. Cho holds up your X Rays. "What happened this time Steve? You turn the corner and collide head first?" she teased as the blond remained in the chair next to the examination table. "It was the pen." you announced, feeling like you were in on an inside joke when Dr. Cho repeated the last phrase "Oh the pen. . I hate the pen, I thought Pepper threw it out last Christmas?" she looked at Steve who shrugged his shoulders. 

Steve continued to listen ardently as Dr.Cho gave you the run down of injuries; you had some minor damage to your right ear drum, a slightly bruised rib and a severe concussion. All because of a notorious fountain pen. "I'd suggest staying with someone for the next 24 hours or so, assess the damage, make sure you don't fall asleep. If you experience any headaches, migraines, blurred vision or slurred sleep don't hesitate to call me." the sweet Doctor handed you her card with a smile. "Do you have someone you can call?" she asks, an assuring and comforting hand on your shoulder. No one immedietly came to mind. Sure you could stay on a video call with a few friends, but no one readily available to you given current circumstances. "I uhm. . " "I'll watch her." Steve announced, standing from his seat. 

'No. . . no, no.' you thought to yourself. "I'd hate to disrupt your schedule, you don't have to." you attempted to make an excuse  
"I want to." Dr. Cho seemingly slunk into the corner, feeling the tension in the shared stare between the two of you. Hiding a smile behind her clipboard, eyes darting back and forth as Steve waited for your response. A soft knock came from the corner of the room, calling everyone's attention as Natasha leaned in the open doorway. "Hope I'm not interrupting." her gaze met Dr. Cho. and the two shared a knowing look.  
Nat allowed herself into the small appointment office, making her way over to you, your burgundy bag in hand. "You left this up there, Tony wouldn't let go of your portfolio sadly." her voice was breathy, cracking in between words, almost hypnotizing. 

You had never met or come into contact with Natasha, sure you had seen each other in passing during the limited work days that had been before the stay at home order was implemented. She was stunning, breath taking really. As if Venus herself had sprung to life and stood before you. You couldn't help but stare. Say something. . say SOMETHING . . 

As if reading your mind, she smiled warmly, sticking her hand out to take yours. "Natasha." she introduced herself. Quickly catching yourself, you took her hand in yours. "Y/N! Nice to meet you." you attempted to pull yourself out of your thought process as she handed you your belongings. "Heard you fell victim to the pen." Nat smirked, "What's the damage?" she asked, looking over at Dr. Cho. "Some major cuts and bruises but Clint still has her beat with a fractured rib and broken collarbone." Jesus, why hadn't they put that thing in a cast of cement and pushed it out to sea?! 

"Yes but I'm fine", you waved your hand, attempting to hop off the table before Dr.Cho immedietly sprung upon you, pressing firm hands on your shoulders. "I'm afraid you are able to go home, but I cannot allow you to walk out of here." she instructs. "Nat, will you. . uhm help me find a wheelchair?" she asks before exiting the room. "Of course, yeah, sure." you could literally hear the the clicking of Dr. Cho's heels as they made their way down the hallway. 

Nat wrapped her long fingers around the Doctors forearms, attempting to whisper the question she was dying to know. " Are they fucking?!" Dr. Cho squealed with laughter as the two descended down the hall in an attempt to 'find' a wheel chair.

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Steve took account of every cracked tile, every hole in the wall and every water stain. Your apartment building must’ve been violating at least two dozen fire codes. You had attempted to explain as quickly and as rationally as possible the mess that was your small studio apartment. He would’ve opted to stay at his place, but knowing how well that went last time relented to yours.

Nothing too bad, a stray sock there, an empty coffee cup there. What astounded him was the amount of sketchbooks surmounted on your desk. An array of drawings displaced over your laptop as well as a few charcoal pencils. “I wasn’t expecting company.” You explain, scratching the back of your head. Anxious as always. Steve said nothing, walking over to your work area and delicately picked up a sketch left carelessly across your laptop keyboard. It was a sketch of forget-me-nots , bits of water color on the petals. 

“Do you want to order takeout? Have you eaten?” He asks, carefully stacking the discarded papers into a neat pile. You quietly walked around him and onto your futon. The pained expression on your face as you struggled to sit down made the blond reach out, grabbing your arms as a form of support so you didn’t full on collapse on the cushion. “Y’youndont have to.” Steve glared at you as he slowly lowered you down to sit. 

Steve didn’t hesitate taking the seat next to you, taking out his phone and looking through the food apps as you began clicking away at the television channels. Not letting you go on without food, Steve opted to make the choice for you, “Pizza, what do you want on it?” He asks, already dialing the numbers. Deciding you weren’t getting him out of your apartment anytime soon you submitted to the given circumstance. Why go hungry? “ Mushrooms..” you say and he smiles .

Steve placed an order as he watched as the tv changed from channel to channel to channel, he was beginning to suspect you were burning through the remote as a means to pacify yourself, like the minutes would go by faster if you continued to click the buttons. When you finally stopped a channel he looked up from his phone to see what you selected; cartoons? Cartoons... how old were you? 

Steve wasn’t one to judge, he really never partook in television, when he did it had two settings, classic movies and the news which for the most part he kept on as background music while he did something else. He would be annoyed, he would’ve, but something happened as you began paying attention to the show, you were relaxing. Less of the attention was placed on him, your demeanor relaxed, you were laughing. God you had a great laugh. It was contagious, made the edges of his lips curl into a smile and at times made him quietly chuckle. He had no idea what the plot of this vibrant and confusing display of animation that was taking place on screen. He noticed how you played with your hair, rubbed your thumb under your index finger and if you laughed too hard, you hiccuped at the end. 

When a hard knock came on the door, Steve quietly cursed to himself, your flow quickly interrupted and you wound tight once again. Quickly springing to his feet to halt any and all attempts you’d make to beat him to the door. 

Steve interrupted the second array of knocks, seeing on the other end of the door, a skinny delivery boy with a stack of pies covered in a plastic bag. Quickly paying the lad, adding a generous tip Steve quickly returned placing the package on the counter of your small kitchen.

For some reason or another you grew incredibly annoyed with his gestures, his manners, the care he took to serve you, the way he stopped by the fridge and pulled out a soda before returning to your side. All of it. What was his agenda? When did the facade or the joke end? When he returned to pretend to watch and enjoy the show you put on the irritation came to a bubble. “You know, you could just fuck me if you want.” A knee jerk reaction, Steve began choking on his food. 

“Wha-I’m sorry what?” Steve looked at you bewildered, dark blond brows knitted together a mix of confusion and concern. 

You took a deep breath at a risk of embarrassing yourself further but the torture of someone feigning interest was a slow painful death. “You don’t have to pretend you like me in order to fuck me. You could just sleep with me and be on your way. I won’t tell Tony or-“ “Wait, wait!” Steve interrupted, holding both hands up. That’s what you thought this was? The dreaded ‘nice guy’ routine? Admittedly Steve for the most part adjusted with the times but the ideas when it came to courting and relationships during this millennia were less than mundane. Dating apps, ‘ghosting’, the supposed “friends with benefits” that left both people broken at the end. He hated it. 

“I’m not faking anything-“ “Then why are you here? You can’t possibly do this for all your coworkers whenever they end up getting blown up by some unpredictable office supply!” You shout, now standing. Steve watched as your expressions changed, the small wrinkle between your brows, how your lips twitched when you got really worked up. Your hands flew at your sides, the words you were saying bashing on after the other as if they didn’t belong in your mouth. You stopped talking when you noticed him staring. Those baby blues made you feel as though you were under a microscope as his eyes wondered over yours. 

“What?” You ask him, returning his stare. Your anxiety building in your chest “WHAT IS IT?! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?” Steve smirks, following you standing. He wipes his lips with his thumb and index finger, “nothing, I just like you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is both sweet and sad. Read with caution.

Steve owed Happy several favors for this one. 

He stood outside your college classroom, his weight shifting on the heels of his feet. Classes had resumed however limited with health code requirements. Steve didn't like it one bit and figured it would only further drive the stretches of the regulations to new ends of time. He simply didn't like the idea of you being out in public given the circumstances, and had to bribe Happy in order to get your current pick up location, a feat that was not little as there were some promises in there Steve would have to make twelve phone calls to fulfill but alas, the Avenger was a man on a mission. Determined to prove his admiration came with no agenda. He had to admit, he did like this little game of cat and mouse, he had never worked for another woman's attention in so long, he couldn't help but be excited whenever he saw you. The day he spent at your apartment got off to a rocky start, however as the hours pressed on the two of you got to learn more and more about you. 

You had an absolute caffeine addiction, liked your own company with most of your social interaction being your school studies and work. Hated anchovies, an adamant reader and loved cartoons an animation. But whenever Steve tried to get past these surface facts, he would never seem to breach it. When talking about family, you would deflect and ask him about his, when talking about your past travels or home life, you'd go quiet or be quick to switch the discussion in another direction. You were a master at effortlessly changing the subject. You had tremendous nervous energy, as though you couldn't simply sit still, or be simply doing nothing, you would often stand up clean something, sit back down, fidget your hands, play with your hair. There was something there. Steve just didn't know how to reach it without seemingly hurting you.

Hearing the shift of metal chairs against the tile floor as well as the shifting of desks, Steve stood on the opposite end of the door as slowly students began trickling out. Lord, how many were there? Oh, there you were. Arm in arm with a charming red head. "So . . .Beth. . did you do the lab? I haven't even been able to look at the worksheet, I'm so dead!" you explained, your free hand rubbing your temples. She responded with a giggle before shaking her head no. Looking up from your notebook, you paused when you saw Steve, stopping dead in your tracks. The red head; Beth nearly toppling over as she stopped with you, glancing at you with a quizzical look, before looking in your direction. "Captain America . . ." her voice just a whisper. 

"Hey. . " Steve waved his hand, greeting you with a smile, a small pool of strangers gathering around where he was standing. His celebrity status still holding obviously.

"Walk ya' home?" he asks amongst the whispers and small sighs of the gathering crowd of fellow students. As much as you disliked the attention being directly on you, you had to admit there was some old school charm was working in his favor. "Sure. . . Beth, I'll catch up with you." you announce removing your arm from her grasp. "Oh, please, PLEASE do." she teased, giving you a slight shove in Steve's direction. You were positive in that moment that people did not in fact mature past their teenage selves.

Steve stuck out his elbow for you to grab as he progressed down the hallways of your college. "What'd you promise Happy?" you asked. "A ride on the back of my motorcycle." he teased, it was the first time he had made you laugh out loud. You weren't sure if he was being serious or not given his direct nature but still, you knew it had to be a pretty penny in order to get Happy to crack and give up your location. 

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As you walked down the familiar hallways of Steve's duplex, you kept insisting that this in fact was not YOUR apartment, at which Steve rebuttaled as he opened the front door that he said he'd take you home, never specified who's. 

Carrying your bag for you, he placed it on his counter top before turning to the fridge. "I'm going to make you dinner!" he announced. "Steve.. I have homework!" you complained. "So do it, I won't bother you." he gestures with his hands, shooing you away from the kitchen. You groveled, grabbing your bag off the counter and slinking to the living room. Setting up your laptop as well as notebooks and a few pencils, you glanced over every once in a while to see what Steve was making. Part of you anticipated it would be boxed mac and cheese, or nuked left overs so when you heard the sizzling of a pan followed by the delectable smell of butter you couldn't help but lean over your splayed out papers and look, unable to see past his hulking shoulders. Steve caught you glancing over, and quickly lectured "Don't look at me, do your homework!" you smirked before attempting to concentrate on your work.

It was quiet coexistence, you briefly glancing over at Steve between breaks of paragraphs, him stealing glances of you as he worked in the kitchen, the two of you in a flow without interrupting the other. A shared and pleasant moment of quiet intimacy, Steve almost hate to ruin it by announcing dinner was ready. Sitting at the counter you were surprised to find a pan seared steak on a bed of mashed potato's in front of you. Your first words should've been thank you, should have. Instead the first thing that came out of your mouth was-"You cook?"

He nodded, placing a glass of water next to you. "My mother taught me." he slowly started speaking before pausing. Only for an instance. He saw an opportunity to chip away at a subject you would constantly avoid. "Tell me about your mum." you ask, helping yourself to the plate in front of you. "She had a dense Irish accent. Most hard working woman I've ever met." his lips curled, recalling the short time Steve had with his mother, a selfless and loving figure in his life, he lost her too soon. 

"Tell me about your family. . you never seem to talk about them." Fuck. Called out. You played with your fork, swirling around the mixture of spuds on your plate trying to find a way to word your five car pile up of a life to the man in front of you. "Uhm. . what do you want to know?" you ask as you continue eating. Steve was ready for this one. "What about your parents? Do you have siblings?" if the only way to get direct answers, was to ask direct questions, Steve could do that, he could do that all day. As long as you were willing to answer he would ask. "My parents left me in the care of my siblings." you answered. An honest answer for the most part, short but an answer. "So you're close with them." Steve continued asking, hoping to change the tune into some sort of optimistic story.

"I was. . .very much so." your voice was beginning to fade, your gaze went from Steve to the table. A tinge of sadness in your tone. "Where are they now?" "Died in a car accident last December." you beat him to the chase. Steve felt like he had just stepped on a dogs paw, the immediate bite of guilt and embarrassment hitting him in the chest. He couldn't have just left it alone. Dropping his fork and leaning back into his chair he apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't." You waved your hand out trying to attempt the on coming sympathy you had heard over and over again. "No, no, it's okay, it's fine!" you wiped your mouth with your napkin. "It's been over a year, I can talk about it now." you were honest. . semi honest at least. The intensity of the grief made you feel incredibly heavy. It was always so, so heavy. The memory of that day as it played out. A simple outing that really you had no ambitions in partaking of. However your sister insisted you accompany them. And yes it was a great day, you went to the beach, walked along the shoreline, collected rocks and sea glass. However it was that afternoon you insisted on sitting in the backseat instead of the passenger 

Your last memory being the back of her and your brothers head.

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Tony wasn't one to jump to worst case scenarios. Your work flow had been excellent, you'd been on time with online meetings every single day, preemptively responded to emails as well as sent back up emails. Numerous ideas flowing back and forth between the two of you. If Tony and Bruce shared a flow, you and him had a current. Whenever you'd go off on a tangent, he recognized the urgency in your voice, the passion you had for the project and run downs of color coordination, only to come up with another idea five minutes later. And he loved it. Being a man head of his time, he loved the constant need for new knowledge, new ideas and new plans. However there was a forewarning here. As impressive as the bells and whistles were, Tony could see the red flags attached to them. You weren't sleeping, emailing him at all hours of the night. Your speech was becoming slurred and the amount of sketches you were submitting were at a break neck speed. Tony knew a crash was coming, and only had experienced his own, he had no idea how to warn, or tell when yours was about to take place. 

When you didn't answer his call the first time, he didn't think much of it. When the phone went straight to voicemail the third time he thought he may have had simply got you on a wrong day, maybe you were catching up on school work. When you didn't answer your work call for a called meeting he became increasingly concerned. 

Steve had also noticed the new sense of vigor, however unable to really point it out to anyone without immedietly signaling the ridicule that the blond was interested in you, he said nothing. You had gone from restless nights of constant contact, phone calls, FaceTiming, texting. Steve wanted to enjoy it, wanted to. He couldn’t help but sense it was off. Something was not quiet right. Words fumbled, mannerisms and speech clunky, odd. He never wanted to point out the oddities in your behavior but as it progressed, prayed that the source or an answer would reveal itself consciously or not. Now everything had come to a halt. The world seemed to stop spinning. You were ignoring his phone calls, and not answering his texts. A pang of concern when he went to your school only to find you had not attended in about two days, he finally had decided he’d get to the bottom of this himself.

Today was not a good day. Not just because it was cloudy, not just because you lost the TV remote, and certainly not because you had run out of conditioner. Today was merely a bad day. You felt heavy, dense. Like the souls of your feet were made out of lead. It was always like this. You would continue functioning and going on about your business until you weren't. Full stop

You couldn't shower, you couldn't brush your teeth, you couldn't clean your apartment. It had been a building feeling for the last three days, up until today. You'd call and lie to Tony, if you could get your phone however it since it was on the kitchen counter and that was clear on the other side of your apartment, might as well have been in another country. Your muscles were spasm underneath you however it still wasn't enough of a motivation to get you to stop laying on your arms. One sock on, the other off, skin sticking to each other underneath your oversized T-shirt.

The sound of pounding fists on your front door didn't do anything to illicit a response. It wasn't until you heard Steve yelling on the other end that you jumped. “Y/N?” Steve on the opposite side of the door, could hear movement from inside the apartment as you scrambled from the bed. A loud thud when your legs that had fallen asleep under your weight caused you to collapse on the floor. "Y/N, Are you alright? I know you’re in there sweetheart, let me in lil’one!” he calls your name, knocking again. He waited. And he waited. Steve was a patient man but his decision for relying on said patience was getting him nowhere. Looking both ways down the hallway of the building to make sure no one was out and about, Steve took a step back before ramming the door with his shoulder breaking through the barrier that had very little give. He'd be sure to fix that later. 

You had managed to struggle your way to your small tub of your bathroom, sitting on the cold wet tile, hand over mouth. The tingling sensation of your spasming muscles making you shake. Heated face from the sheer embarrassment at the state of your dilapidated apartment. Steve heard the sheering of the plastic against the metal as you quickly closed the flimsy yellow shower curtain.

Steve's heavy footsteps crept quietly through the small space that was the apartment. Seeing the mess that was left there. Sketches, drawings; paper a lot of paper. Wet paint left on the floor, an array of charging cords left sprawled out and a number of packaging material as well as empty boxes; you’d been doing some online shopping. As he advanced down the hallway until he was in front of the bathroom . His hands finding the metal door handle of the bathroom, ready to meet it with more strength but was surprised when he found it wasn't locked. You were crouched in, knees to your chest, head pressed against the tops of them, hair a mess tied up in a lose bun. You were ready for the recoil, ready for this to be “too much” for him like it had been for others. Like it’d been for the boys that thought they wanted you, and the friends you thought would understand you. The people that called you draining, and the cruel words they would use to describe your struggle to just keep your head above water. Why was it so much sadder this time? You were always so proud of how you never allowed people close enough to hurt you anymore, or rather to disappoint you anymore. So why were you on the verge of tears? Was it shame? Having someone you’d grown interested in abandon you again? ‘You gave him an out, you should be happy this happened sooner rather than later’’ you thought to yourself. Steve's fingertips gently pushed the curtain away. By God, you looked so small. How he managed to fit in the small ceramic tub he had no clue, lowering himself in the tiny space, required his legs lap over the sides of the tub. You felt warm fingertips find the sides of your shirt before hot palms wrapped around your waste and you were lifted into his enormous lap. 

"I. .it.. got bad again." you mumble, covering your face with your hands. Steve said nothing, placing a hand under your shirt, another on your knee cap. 

"I'm gonna sit back down and write myself a letter.  
And make believe it came from you."

his voice barely carrying a tune, sounding more so like a low hum, gravely. His hand began tracing small circles on your back as he continued humming a soft tune, you allowed yourself to place your head on the column of his chest. 

"I'm gonna smile and say "I hope you're feelin' better  
and sign "with love" the way you do.  
I'm gonna sit write down and write myself a letter  
And make believe it came from you. . "


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff never wanted to have children. At least that’s what she told herself being robbed of her choice. She always allowed herself to live vicariously through Clint whenever she visited his family at the ranch. However sitting behind the pore line tub in Steve’s bathroom, scrubbing your scalp, she couldn’t help but feel the familiar warmth of what it was to care for another persons most basic needs.

“Good God kid, you’ve practically got a rats nest back here.” She teases, lightly tugging at an array of knots that had found their way behind your head.

You only hummed a response. 

Tony and Steve both agreed that the run down apartment you’d been kept in wasn’t the best place for you to recover from your unpredictable mood swings. 

Steve said nothing, standing in his rooms his mind wandered as he went through a pile of sketch books he had taken as well as a box of your belongings he knew were your every day carry. He insisted on returning to your apartment to retrieve whatever else you needed while they decided exactly where the best placement would be for you. 

Finding so many heavy, scratched pages filled to the brim with dark charcoaled media. The pages turned the tips of his fingers grey, he had to mind himself looking through the other pieces to avoid fingerprints. 

When he found you in your apartment the familiar feeling of his stomach dropping came back to him, the memories of his father leaving holes, broken dishes and his mother cowering in the corner. They used to call it “shell shock” back in the day. The quickness of which someone would go from one mood to another, rendering them unpredictable. And dangerous. 

Men would go to war and come back completely different people. A ghost of their former selves. He saw the aftermath multiple times in Veteran’s meetings, and how some never seemed to recover. He saw the same thing happen Tony after New York. He’d go from hyper productive, insomniac, blowing everyone’s phone up until they’d pick up, to missing work, text messages, meetings, phone calls. Pepper had to take her time when it came to handling him, Bruce was a close second.

It gave Steve a larger scope of things, being a man out of his time, he sought to understand people more than most. The time it took to unravel someone to the point they’d show someone their paint took tremendous amounts of time.

Steve had patience, he could wait.

Natasha brought you to the couch, wrapping you in a soft cotton robe. You complied, relaxing in the heavy scent of lavender that had been scrubbed over epidermis, hair conditioned for the first time in a week. You could almost fall asleep right here.

Nat allowed herself a sigh of relief, she quickly turned on the tv played with a few channels before settling on something and making a quiet exit to Steve’s room. She closed the door quietly, before quickly walking over and joining Steve on the side of the bed as he continued to flicker through your portfolio. “I thought this would be good for you, but now I’m not so sure.” 

She confessed, Steve looked at her with a raised brow.

“ You deserve someone that makes you happy, not a project...” she continued, treading softly. She knew to choose her words wisely, knowing full and well the position she was putting herself in especially after her failed attempt at a relationship with Banner.

“No ones perfect Nat.” Steve continued flickering through the papers. “We all have our faults-“  
“Yes, but you’ve already dealt with other peoples faults, fixing people cannot be your hobby Steve. You can’t save everyone!” She chided. 

Steve bit back his words, his brows furrowed clearly irritated. He never abandoned anything so the idea of up and leaving you in this state never crossed his mind for an instant. He simply decided it had to be you, the ups and downs be damned.

“ I know I can’t stop you from pursuing whatever it is that you want, you’ll always make your own choices, but God damn Steve, you never want to pick anything easy.” Steve smirked at that. He was never deterred by anything before, why would this be any different?

“But it’s what I want.” He stated flatly. No room for argument.

A click from the other side of the door caused the two to shift their attention, finding you in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “.. I want noodles..”

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Sipping your broth, until you met the bottom of the bowl before you finally surrendered the styrofoam container to Natasha. Steve giggled. Still dawning your robe, unable to help himself, Steve reached over and tucked a curl behind your ear. 

“Riiight, anyways.” Natasha smirked, grabbing a plastic bag and sliding it over to you.  
“Is this...you bought me clothes?” You asked wide eyed, pulling out folded tshirts and a few pairs of joggers. “Don’t get too excited, mostly leisure wear.” She explained, you’d wondered briefly why you didn’t have your clothes specifically when you remembered the shambles you’d left your apartment in, also meant a good majority of your clothing was left in an unwashed pile in scattered piles through put your apartment. 

“When do you think I’ll be able to go home?” Your question made Steve flinch slightly, standing at attention, walking around the counter and crossing his arms as he leaned on the table top. “That building had numerous housing code violations.. your apartment alone had severe structural issues, black mold, infrastructure failure-“ “you broke down my door.” You explained. 

Steve opened his mouth as though he were going to say something else but paused. Natasha chimed in. “It’s just not a good environment to get better in, you can’t improve in the same place that made you sick. Or in your case where the roof may collapse.” She explained.

You nodded meekly, unsure of where that left you. “Maybe Beth will let me crash until I can..”  
“Tony is more than happy to arrange something for you at the Ave-“  
“You could stay here.” 

Steve completely derailed Natasha’s sentence earning him a glare. Unbeknownst to you, her patience with Steve was growing thin with the sudden overhaul of interest he had shown you. The old fashioned chivalry that still ran through the blond was a feat to behold and something unheard of in the current day and age. 

It frightened you. Someone so attractive, so charming, and beloved. He’d made his motives clear without pushing any agenda or forcing anything on you. It was more of ‘I’m here, I’m not moving until you move me’ sort of ordeal. And you, riddled with insecurities and a chemical imbalance that had you teetering on one side of emotions to another... and he’d seen both. And remained unflinching in his pursuit of you. 

“I don’t want to impose..” you spoke softly.  
“I have plenty of room.” Steve got up from his seat, circling around the counter. “A guest room, you could have your own shelf on the fridge and pantry.” He was attempting to sweeten the pot and ease the burning sensation of Natasha’s eyes burrowing in the side of his head.

“You’ve had a long day, stay here for the night and if you don’t like it, we’ll call Tony in the morning and get you all set up at the tower.” Steve said that last bit looking at Nat as if to satiate her micro aggressions. 

You thought for a beat. It was one night, you’d spent a night with Steve before and nothing had happened, there was no danger here. So you nodded, and no sooner had you done that was the edges of Steve’s mouth curling into a smile. Nat shrugged her shoulders, picking up her keys and readying to leave. She reminded you that there were pajamas in the bag of clothes and that her number was in your phone. 

As the apartment door closed you were sort of punted back into the reality that you were here, alone, with Steve. 

Nervous fidgeting, the pricking of your thumbs trying not to look directly at him, you stayed stationary at the stool of the kitchen counter until Steve took the seat next to you

He could feel your energy, share your anxiety, hear the blood rushing through your veins making your ears visible red. Was he that intimidating to you? 

Resting his elbow on the counter, it was like a dog cornering a kitten, your body language appearing both curious but cautionary. Curious of what he’d do, what he’d say, would he try to touch you? Before he had the chance of opening his mouth, the crinkling noise of the retail bag Natasha gave you cut him off as you hopped onto your feet.

“Mind if I change?” Steve blinked, licking his lips before following you in standing. “Uh, yeah, I’ll show you to your room. Would’ve offered it up last time you were here.” He explained guiding you down the hallway of his apartment. “I’d been using it for storage for a while. Me and Bucky cleared it out.” He paused opening the door and turning on the light. 

“Been gathering dust, feels good to have it all cleared up.” 

It was a simple room, notable IKEA furniture, a desk, a wall mounted tv and a queen sized bed tucked away in a corner, right under a window that overlooked the street. 

Taking only two steps in, you were overwhelmed. Clutching the bag to your chest, you could feel your heart flutter. “Did you.. did you do this for me?” Your voice meek, shy. 

You couldn’t see it but as Steve occupied the doorway he couldn’t help himself but smile from ear to ear. 

“Didn’t take long, maybe half a day or so.”  
“When did you start?”  
“Last night after I got you out of your apartment.” 

That’d mean he’d spent the entire night, and most of the morning rearranging the space and building furniture. 

Remaining with your back to him, you dipped your head down between your shoulders tucking the bag underneath your chin. “Steve?” You ask.

“Yes sweetheart?” A telling creak as he left the doorway and approached you from behind. 

“Why...why do you like me?” You were almost struck with regret the minute the question left your mouth. You sounded insecure, flayed and naked before him, you shrugged your shoulders together when you could feel the encroaching heat coming off him as he stood directly behind him. 

“I just do. I wish you believed there was no agenda behind it other than I’d like to spend time with you, get to know you.” His touch burned as his fingers crept up the collar of the white robe, his fingertips finding their way around the column of your neck pulling you closer. He paused, brushing his lips over the lobe of your ear making your hair stand on end. 

“Is this ok?” Ever the chivalrous you could only bite your lip and nod allowing him to wrap his arm around you, pressing your frame to his.

Here he was, Captain America held taunt against your body. And he wanted you. 

His hot breath tickling the base of your neck, his lips pressing the back of your head, and his fingers finding their way into the sleeve of your robe, brushing the tips against your bare, freshly washed skin. You were so sure if he wasn’t holding you, you’d easily melt into the ground and leak through the floorboards. 

“Can I kiss you...” his voice trailed off as one of his hands found a way up your neck, just below your hairline and planting an index finger right at the beginning of your spine. “here?” 

“Yes.” Your voice soft, breathy. His request causing the rhythm of your heart to lose cadence. Chills broke out down your body when you felt his lips flushed against your skin. A soft peck, wet from the very tip of his tongue wedged between his lips as though he were trying to savor the taste of you. 

His hand found its way around your shoulder, tugging at the robe to display your shoulder and clavicle, he circles you so he stands directly in front of you. He raises his hand as of to show you where he’s placing it; the curve of your collarbone. “Here?” 

“Y’yes.” You answer as he’s progressing his movements, his head tucked under your chin. You can smell his aftershave, sandlehood, sea salt, and leather. You gasped softly feeling his pillow soft lips meet your clavicle, and you can feel his mouth form a smile.

His hands find your sides and he looks directly at you. Eyes lingering over your now disheveled robe, your cheeks blatantly red. A sight to behold, coming undone at the seams and all for him. Steve wanted more. Seek the untouched flesh, hidden underneath the flimsy cotton robe. He wanted to tug, pull, yank it off, bite the skin of the apple, lap up the sweet center. 

Your line of sight went from his eyes, to his lips, cheeks, nose. Steve was really handsome. Something effortlessly charming about him, even his flaws were perfect. Moles on his cheeks and neck perfectly placed only added to his handsome features. 

His hand finding its way to your chin, a thumb brushing over your lower lip pulling a soft gasp from you. “Here?” An immediate yes was eclipsed by his lips colliding into yours.

Subtle at first. His tongue slithered out, lapping the bottom lip and you permitted him. His hands found their way to your face as his advances became more heated. Laps of tongue, teeth and lips, he continued with soft pecks before releasing you, sharing a sting of saliva. 

Unsure of what to say, you hid your face in the cuff of the robe. You went with “I ... uh... I should change into my pajamas.” 

Steve chuckled , smiled and then let go of your sides, nodding in agreement.

As the night went on, you met Steve back in the living room. He’d changed into a plain white fitted t shirt and grey sweatpants. You in flannel pajamas, you in simple lace hemmed shorts and a tank top. “Movie?” He asks, gesturing to his side to join him on the cushions. You nodded, taking the seat next to him, curling your feet up on your side as he flickered through channels. “Any suggestions?” 

“I could go for a comedy, or a horror.” 

You watched, searching the screen as quickly as he changed them. You’d think he’d object, suggest a mild mannered black and white flick from the 40’s. However you were astonished when he halted on what appeared to be the beginning of a scary movie. You could only tell by the soundtrack being heavily carried by the strumming of violins followed by the melancholic harmony carried by a stringed quartet and opening credits that were written in the horrendous Smudger font.

“Oh, this is going on to be good..” you leaned forward, rubbing your hands together. Steve smirked enjoying your actions, as though you were participating in the actual production of the film. 

It was horrendous. The cheesy acting, the poorly written dialogue, the awfully predictable reveal of the perplexing but boring plot twist. It was bad. 

But you enjoyed every campy second of it. Unbeknownst to you, Steve’s hand found it’s way under the back of your shirt. Warm, firm, pressed tight against the middle of your back. Comforting. Tender. You hadn’t noticed until the end of film it was there and only when he’d removed it. “Oh.”

Steve smiled. “What?”

“Put your hand back into my shirt.”


	5. Chapter 5

This is safest you’d felt in a long time. Your legs curled up to your stomach laying on your side,your head laid comfortable on Steve’s arm pressed into a pillow. His hot breath curling your baby hairs behind your ear with every warm exhale. Legs curled and tucked up behind you with a protective arm resting underneath your shirt resting in your soft tummy.

And good God, the heat coming off of him. Feeling like a baby chick before it hatched, the incubation gave you a sense of comfort unfamiliar, foreign..comforting. 

So much so you’d nearly fall asleep but then wake with a jolt abruptly and start the process all over again. By the third time, Steve looked at the clock. 3:30 in the morning. Not that he needed much sleep but the idea of you losing sleep the first night in his apartment didn’t sit right with him. 

He leaned back allowing you to rest on your back and look at him. He smiled seeing a pink print on the side of your face, your droopy eyes struggling to open however sleepy you looked, a rem cycle simply escaped you. 

“Talk to me sweetheart, what’s going on?” 

You wiped your face with your hands, started your sentence with an ‘uhm..’ as you attempted to gather a sentence that didn’t sound down right pathetic. “Uhm... I’m.. I’m loud sometimes when I sleep.” You mumbled, exhaustion made your voice sound so little. 

He had heard you struggle in your slow, low mumbles, and cries but nothing major to the extent he’d categorize it as ‘loud’. Did you break wind in your slumber? 

“I.. I sometimes snore..” you whispered. Had it not been for the super serum Steve was sure he’d miss it. 

“You snore?” He asked, only to make sure he’d heard you right. You nodded. Normally you’d be ashamed to admit it but given the late night hour and the extra guest room you were planning to escape to, fatigue had robbed you of modesty. 

“I’ve had ...complaints before.” And you had. Lovers previously complaining that you were too loud, flailed too much, or twitched in your sleep. These relationships didn’t ever get farther than surface level.

Steve watched you explain, fighting sleep with jabs that weren’t landing. Until you finally got up on your elbows leaning over readying to make a beeline way to the guest room until Steve stopped you with one firm hand spread flat on your belly pressing you into the mattress. 

“Aht, aht where are you going?” Steve asked, his voice a low whisper.

“To the guest room so you can sleep.” 

“I don’t need to sleep, c’mere.” 

You were placed underneath him, his plush pink lips pressing tender kisses alongside your neck, causing your eyes to flutter close

. It was apparent that you were right on the precipice of slumber, teetering between awake and asleep, drifting further into relaxation only for that knee jerk reaction was to wake. 

Pressing a knee between your legs, Steve’s hands found their way under your shirt gradually lowering down to the hem of your pajama bottoms.

When his thumb brushed across your mound you jolted up nearly kicking him in the process. 

“What are you... you don’t have to do that.” Your voice was so small. But given your previous relationships if you could call the manipulative misgivings for how supposed ‘men’ handled you ‘relationships’, you knew most of them didn’t want their face anywhere betwixt your legs, and if they did the result was less than flattering let alone enjoyable. 

Scratching your clit like a lotto ticket, pressing it so hard that it was down right painful, the effort became clear that it wasn’t to please you, it was merely something they did to either brag about it later or make themselves feel better when they shoved they’re crotches in your face. 

No fun with the edition of lockjaw. 

Steve hushed you, pressing down on the valley between your breasts so you were laid firm into the goose feathered mattress topper. 

“Shhh...shhhh, I want to...” he lowers the hem of your pants, your cotton underwear following suit. “I want to see how you taste.. put you to bed..” he mumbled. A slick damp patch between your thighs growing more apparent with his every move. 

Far from being a virgin, but you were nervous. The heat from his hands relaxing the muscles under his touch to twitch, move. Your upper body literally quivering, as Steve’s hands came to rest on your bare thighs. 

Steve took a silent glee at how reactive you were to his subtle touches, no where near started yet and here you were trembling, anticipating his next move. He rested his head on your knees looking up at you. His smile made your heart thump against your chest, and a faint blush worked it’s way across your neck and cheeks.

You weren’t used to this type of attention, it was almost intimidating. 

He kisses his way up your figure. Shins, knees and thighs, until daft thumbs spread your damp lips between your legs and a flat hot tongue lapped up your engorged clit. 

Tingling. Pleasure in its purest form. The sensation building from the crux of your thighs down to the tips of your toes.

You squirm, your breathing picks up as he secures your legs over his shoulder as he completely consumed you with his mouth completely encasing you. And he watched as your movements became feverish, your lips become chewed underneath your front teeth as your nerve ends begin to sing. 

Steve’s nose nuzzled your weeping folds, painting you a darker colored rouge, and your hand smacking your forehead in embarrassment was audible. Your hand found it’s way onto your chest as Steve’s passionate efforts become audible as he inserts a singular digit inside you, and lowly groans finding it taunt as it explores you further.

“Are you ok?” His voice deep, throaty. As if he were holding back a low growl. You merely nodded, lower lip tucked in between your teeth as he progressed his investigation adding another digit to stretch your channel. 

Pressure. 

Beautiful, tingly pressure that curled your toes and made your legs twitch in his hold. 

Steve took absolute glee in watching your unraveling. And at his hands. The ultimate goal was to simply relax you to the point of surrendering to sleep but oh, drawing you out further, further take you to the hilt of a blubbering, whining mess. 

Hooking his fingers inside you and brushing against the bumpy exterior and the internal bundle of nerves, you couldn’t stop an escaping moan and erratically began to tremble. Your breath becoming an all out pant as he began rhythmic motions, his fingers pressing that delightful interior button. 

You were sweating, your strayed hairs clinging to your forehead and neck and your mouth a gaping maw as the pressure in your lower tummy became denser, heavier. 

“God you’re gorgeous..” Steve whispered, his line of sight looking directly up at you, almost burrowing holes into your head. A low groan escaped his mouth as you clamped down tight against his knuckles as the words of praise.

You almost believed he was enjoying this just as much as you were. 

“Such a pretty girl... my pretty girl...” his whispers barely audible over your wanton like moans. Your reserve practically disintegrated. 

“..Let me..” he mumbled before latching onto your clit and sucking it, hard. 

That was it .. almost... “TOo MUCH!!” you squealed. Your orgasm rocked you, literally. An array of spasms as your feet dug into the bedding and lifted your pelvis off the mattress only to be caught in a strong hold as Steve’s arm wrapped around your torso and held you in place forcing you to endure the intensity before going completely slack against his hold. 

Your breath was audible. The remnants of your pleasure causing your limbs to twitch, and teeth to chatter when Steve gently laid you down. He’d been smiling ear to ear. Proud and wearing your essence around his lips and chin giving them a faint shine. 

Leaning over you, caging your head between his arms he pressed gentle kisses on your lips, cheeks, before taking your mouth and allowing you a taste of yourself. He couldn’t help but giggle as he found you practically sleeping, mumbling low nothings of appreciation at his efforts before finally being overcome with sleep.


End file.
